scraps

Scraps. Poem photograph

 

They never fall

those spots of reason

on flesh drawn tight, in retreat, braying

hauled about and withered

by fears stacked up

and shrieking at, no other way

because there was

no other way, not for them

not then behind their bared teeth

 

but now a rush of rust on metal, it’s scalding heat,

illuminating those screech marks of decay

like time, bold on the eaten substance whose texture

might render beauty to a mind

so bidden

but,

lassitude allows mould

to fret and gather over

those dull accomplishments

and the question of;

what is this ache, this cause?

that infects the colour blue

that famous state

folk hero hue

that is an attitude of mind gone flaky with

an intimate knowledge

belonging to more than just the few.

 joined by other colours and stripes

like red and yellow, their snipers blazing

indignant, implacable; a virus rising behind immunity

our politicians so adept at leaving

 

scraps

always scraps

that in the end

are left

in view

and reason that escapes

all of them in that milieu

Bully Boys Brag

Bully Boys Brag

All of it, the wished for song

of air squeezed and compressed to utter

chants. Those tribal, primal, screams

that seek to possess

to claim victory

and leave an image, a semblance

of superiority like musk on a jungle trail

or the laments of survivors over

their dead

Those chosen ones who somehow contrive

to vacuum the air of remorse

as they swell in their putrid vanity.

Those purely muscled men strike poses

and raise flags over a smoking wasteland

claiming victory

already succumbing to inertia

Their fat arses on a bed of hungry weeds

feeding that strident song

it’s notes looping away on collapsing thermals

of bravado

in the laying down of new mown history

uncertain in its fledgling state

The stench of power

The “justified” abuse contrives

to be respectable

whilst the losers scrape to find

some solace in whispered prayers

Error message…’I’m going to **** *** ****…’ Send

Error message

 

A magnificent rant

Full of bile. Malodourous

Extruded hate

Desperate. Drink fuelled confusion

Committed to air by pressing ‘send’

And sealing a toxic mistake to history

From down there in the deeply dark

Out now to fester. A lingering testamony

To a failed state

Always to hover and float

In a memory alert to casual triggers

So, will there be, debris

Some reciprocal ache

Some collateral damage

A stain left from the rancour

Or will I see sense

Forgive and forget

Grow a little as I toast my luck

Because in this small episode

My conscience is clear